


Anakin and His Angel: What Should Have Been

by Padme_N_Amidala



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Padme_N_Amidala/pseuds/Padme_N_Amidala
Summary: What if Padmé didn't die? Find out my version of a Star Wars Prequel AU when you read Anakin and His Angel: What Should Have Been. Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, although I sure wish I did! Also, I don't own the image either.





	1. Chapter 1

"There is still ... good in him..." Padmé's head turned, and her right cheek hugged the pillow.

Obi Wan's eyebrows raised, and he quickly reached out his index and middle finger, and checked the pulse on her neck. It was sporadic, but still there. She was just unconscious. He put a hand to her jawline and stroked her cheek gently, in awe of what she had gone through. She had given her life to Anakin, only to get betrayal in return, giving birth to the children of her now half robot husband, whom she had endeared and referred to as Ani, or my love. There was a sudden feeling that rushed over Obi Wan, like a strong wind, and his ears changed pressure uncomfortably, with a high pitched ringing. 

Suddenly, he saw before him Anakin, on Mustafar, the planet's surface scarred with irate crimson and scarlet lava flows. Anakin glared, his handsome face twisted in a sneer of impassion. His expression depicted deep feelings of hurt and pain, radiating hate and anger to them point the Obi Wan was nearly consumed by the emotions himself. He almost wanted to help him, wanted to rule the world with him, in the physical safety of his new empire, protected by Anakin's new power. Ultimately though, he refused, because it was wrong. Wrong to tamper with life or death, or fate, wrong to kill younglings, even if it was to save her life. And Anakin knew that. 

Anakin reached his hand out, and suddenly, it felt like the world came crashing down around Obi Wan. His throat closed, and he couldn't breathe. There was a pleading voice, feminine, and choked, but not his own. The ground below him was moving away, and he felt the pressure on his throat rise. A blood-red curtain descended on his vision, and cast everything in a demonic shadow. His eyes stung and watered painfully. A conversing echo of screams was evident in the background, and out of nowhere, the pressure on his throat released. Obi Wan slammed to the ground, his vision going dark. 

He pulled his hand away, breathing hard, his forehead coated with a sheen of perspiration. Obi Wan took a second to calm down, and wiped the perspiration off his forehead with the back of his hand. He wondered, was that a memory? If so, it wasn't mine, I have no recollection of being force choked before nor any of the thoughts I had. Obi Wan tried to piece all the details together, but it just wasn't making sense. Why the feminine voice? And if that's not my memory, then why was I in it? Out of nowhere, it all clicked, of course! This was Padmé's memory, and by initiating contact with her, I must have seen her dreams or memories through the Force! Obi Wan shook off the feeling of desperation, and stepped out to speak with Yoda.

"The Senator, okay she is?" came Yoda's grumbling reply.

"Senator Amidala is fine, she just fell unconscious due to exhaustion." Obi Wan sighed heavily, sitting down in a chair at the blank white coloured table.

"Troublesome, this sequence of events is. Decide, we must, how to protect the Senator and her children," Yoda's voice resounded wonderingly.

"Yes," Obi Wan put a hand to his forehead, merging his eyebrows, "suppose maybe... we could take them to Tatooine? It should be safe there. It's on the verge of wild space, and ruled by the Hutts. Also, her in-laws, Beru and Owen live there, who would most likely be willing to take care of her and her children," he bit his lip. Obi Wan still wasn't used to saying Anakin's siblings were Padmé's in-laws, or that Padmé had children. It just seemed abnormal, unexpected. Even though it they had a definite relationship, he hadn't expected them to go as far as that. More like he hadn't expected Padmé, to go that far. Anakin, on the other hand... 

Yoda's voice interrupted his thoughts, "Tatooine, a good idea is. Find a more hidden place though, we must. Send them to Tatooine we will, until a safer location we decide."

Obi Wan nodded thoughtfully, "Yes Master." He pondered for a moment, and then replied, " and for a safer place may I recommend Yavin? It's all the way across the galaxy from any of the planets she would be presumed to be located at," he pushed his chair back, and stood up, "I assume you intend for me to accompany Padmé and her children to Tatooine, and stay there, until you make a decision?" 

"Yes. Now, be going you must, before discovered, the Senator and her children are."

Obi Wan turned and walked back into the room, spoke with the droids momentarily, telling them to carry Padmé and her babies to her ship. When everyone had boarded, Obi Wan set the beautiful Nabooian ship on course for Tatooine, with a blast of electric blue fire, reminding him of old times with Anakin.


	2. Chapter 2 (19 BBY)

          Padmé's eyes fluttered open, and she looked around frantically, trying to figure out where she was. Vague nuances in the room hinted at a memory caked in dust at the back of her consciousness, such as the patterns on the furniture, the bright lighting, and the tools strewn around the room. Specifically the wrench sitting on the table against the wall. She sat up to reach it. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming and acute pain, and her memory came flashing back. Padmé fell back, groaning, a hand on her throbbing abdomen. She squeezed her eyes shut and curled in on herself, holding back tears. She remembered where she was now, and what had happened here.

              It was around three and a half years ago.

              Anakin had stood in a far corner, leaning over something he was working on. Padmé walked into the room, and set a tray of food on the ledge near the wall. “Anakin,” she walked up behind him and placed a hand gingerly on his back.

 

                He had an anguished expression on his face, his eyebrows converged, his lips taut. Spontaneously, he burst out in frustration, “usually I'm good at fixing things!” his hand clenched the tool, knuckles turning white, “but I couldn't do it this time, I couldn't save her Padmé!” Anakin fought to keep his voice steady, holding back stinging tears.

               Padmé rubbed his back gently, “You're not all powerful Ani,” she looked him in the eyes tenderly.

              Anakin turned away, refusing logic, “well I should be,” came his bitter reply. He was facing away from Padmé, but she could tell he was about to blow by the tension in his muscles, “I… I killed them. I killed them all,” he started to pace, “And not just the men. But the women… and the children, too. They're like animals! And I slaughtered them like animals!”  he stopped in his tracks and threw the wrench across the room, then whirled around to face Padmé, “I hate them!” he yelled in rage. Then he slumped against the wall in utter defeat, covering his face with his hands. Padmé crouched down next to him and pulled her arms around him, resting his head against her collarbone.

               Tears sprung in her eyes, as she realized this was the beginning of his journey to the dark side, turning away from her. This was what had started it all, and that wrench was the very same wrench he had used all those three and a half years ago. The rest her memory slowly returned, and she cried out in anguish and vexation, “Anakin!… Anakin! Where are you? Come back to me, my love!”

              A young woman with golden blonde hair pulled back into a bun, with a flower braided on the side of her head stepped in, along with Obi Wan. She put a small tray with a cup on it on the nightstand. He walked up to her bedside, and put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, “Padmé,” he paused for a moment, bracing himself to say the heart wrenching phrase, which even he had yet to fully believe and embrace, “Anakin isn't coming back. No sith has ever returned from the dark side, not one,” he looked her in the eyes, trying to convey his frankness and sincerity.

               Padmé sat up and pulled herself away from him, her face twisted in a grimace of both physical and emotional pain, “no! No! That's not true he will come back-I’ll help him come back!”

              “Padmé,” Obi Wan placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, forcing her back into sitting position,  Padmé’s face distorted in a paroxysm of agony, “he doesn't know you anymore, he’ll try to kill you.” 

                Padmé looked him in the eyes, as if to say please trust me, I know there's still good in him. Obi Wan hesitated, but he knew he couldn't let her be hurt even more by letting her see what Anakin truly was, and what he would do to her, so he changed the subject. Obi Wan grabbed the cup from off the tray, “here, at least take this sedative, so that you don't have to be in so much pain,” he handed Padmé the cup, and she drank all of it, and then handed it back to Obi Wan. 

               “Where are Luke and Leia?” Padmé asked, trying to steady her voice to hide her pain.

              “They're inside, taking a nap,” Obi Wan replied.

              Padmé immediately stood up, braving the oncoming pain, “I’m going to find Anakin, and if I can't bring him back, maybe our children can,” Padmé's limping gait determined, she walked past him, disregarding his wave of protests. She walked into the room where her, their, children were sleeping. Padmé gently aroused them, then picked them up, balancing one on each hip. 

              “Padmé,” Obi Wan called after her as she walked towards her clinquant ship, which reflected Tatooine’s sunlight beatifically, mirroring Padmé’s hope for success, “please, don't go!” Padmé gave his entreaties no attention, she refused to accept her love was gone for good, well actually for evil. She walked up the ramp and into the ship.

                Padmé had given him no choice. Obi Wan would have to sneak onto her ship, again. For the second time in the past 24 hours.


	3. Chapter 3

Obi Wan curled up deeper into the closet compartment at the back of the pilot room as Padmé walked in. Luke and Leia were settled in a crib located in a separate room. She sat down with a pained sigh in the pilot's chair and leaned her her elbow against the dashboard, her hand placed delicately on her forehead, pinky raised slightly. She inhaled sharply, blinking back stinging tears. 

"I can do this, Anakin will come back," Padmé murmured, hoping desperately to reassure herself that she could restore her previous life, as though it were a wilted flower deprived of all aestheticism and soul. After a moment of mourning, Padmé set the hyperdrive coordinates for where she believed the new Separatist hideout was, and leaned back in her chair, hoping, pleading for the best.

* * * * *

After several difficulties, Padmé was finally able to get in undetected, with the help of a Sith Lord by the name of Vader. She had no idea who this Vader was, and she didn't really like having the help of a Sith Lord, but it wouldn't do any harm, and it would help her find her beloved Ani.

So, Padmé landed her ship, being told by her asset that whoever walked up would be Anakin, and disembarked after lowering the walkway. As she paced down the ramp her eyes anxiously scanned the room. She looked carefully for Anakin's familiar face, with those soft lips, and his tousled, deep blonde hair scattered over feather lashed, stormy blue eyes. With that faded scar etched over his right eyelid. When she saw a dark figure stride out of the shadows, her heart dropped into a chasm as fathomless as the galaxy was wide.

The human -creature- was covered in what seemed to be metallic black armor. A ominous cape billowing behind him, dark as a sky void of stars. He stepped toward her with a crooked gait, stumbling along like a toddler just learning to walk. His armor left no skin open to the air. His head was hidden in a helmet, his hands covered with gloves, and his feet stuck in a pair of clunky boots. He had an odd, brightly coloured console-like array of buttons on his chest that made him seem menacingly inhuman. He took a deep, rattling, robotic breath through the slits in the triangular mouth of his helmet, as though he were about to commit some burdensome action or sin. His intimidating stare fixed, emotionless, upon her.

Padmé's lips tightened nervously, and she spoke in a soft undertone, frightened to offend this monster in front of her, "Ani?" her voice trembled slightly on his name, "Is that you?" Padmé stumbled at the end of the ramp, scared.

An automated voice reverberated, coming from the slits in his helmet, "Yes," he took a low, and emphasized breath inward, "Angel, it's me," for a small moment, his previous voice was evident, as he spoke his eponym for Padmé, but then it became Vader's again.

Padmé choked on her breath. She knew that Anakin had turned to the darkness, but she hadn't expected him to turn into this- this monster. The fact that he had betrayed her and been turned into a virtual cyborg, brought her heartache to an entirely new level. Anakin could never be his same self again. She would never see his messy, shoulder length hair, or feel the rough skin of his cheek, her Hero With No Fear was gone. And it was all because of her love. Her love had caused this. Her love had caused him, caused both of them this unendurable agony. But she had to try, she had to try to get him back. Her life was empty without him, void of joy, like a supernova flared into oblivion. She knew it was impossible to even consider leaving, even if part of what she came for was gone, she could still save him from himself, from his inner darkness.

"Anakin," Padmé took a steady, controlled breath inward, "please, come back," she walked toward him, and set a hand on his tall broad shoulders.

"No," even though his face was hidden by a mask, you could sense the strain in his voice, anger towards Palpatine, and the pain of refusing the offer of a lifetime, "Padmé, come to me, where you can be safe."

Now it was Padmé's turn to say no, "Anakin, I can't! This is no place to raise children, and it is certainly not a place that welcomes our love!"

Anakin was taken aback, "children? You mean, we had two children?" Vader's voice shook in what seemed very nearly to be elation, which sounded odd paired with his deep tone.

"Yes, I bore twins," Padmé walked onto the ship, and came out with two precious babies, nearly as angelic as herself. One had dark coloured, brown hair and eyes like Padmé's and the other had dark blonde hair and blue eyes, not unlike his previous visage. They gave small innocent cries at the sight of him.

Vader's knees buckled, and he stumbled towards Padmé and his children, gently touching their tear streaked cheeks with his leather glove. They quieted down, half in fear, half contented. He was filled with awe. Padmé had birthed these two children, and they were his. These beautiful pristine, precious babies were created partially by him. At the same time, he felt an overwhelming pang of guilt. These babies would have to grow up without a father, and Padmé would parent them alone. It would be all his fault. Did he really want to cause that, cause his beloved, irreplaceable Padmé, and their children, that much pain?

Padmé's mahogany eyes saw through the mask, and into his soul, "please, we need you," she whispered desperately, pleading to the depths of his heart, or what was left of it, if any.

He took off the leather glove on his right hand, and touched her cheek with his prosthetic hand, stroking it with his thumb. Padmé shuddered slightly, but she didn't pull away. "Padmé, Angel, I will come back with you," he put a hand on her waist, " I pro-"

PS. That wasn't a typo, just a cliffhanger. Sorry to make you endure that.


	4. Chapter 4 (19 BBY)

A dry cackle split the air from behind them, “well, well, look, it's a happy family reunion,” Emperor Palpatine’s pasty white face broke in a gleeful grin, showing his rotten, yellowing teeth, “I hate to ruin this, but I mustn't spoil my plans,” giddily, Palpatine reached into the Force and modified Anakin's life support system.

Immediately, his breaths became shallower, and he hunched over, trying to hold the breath in, and the pain at bay. Palpatine advanced on Padmé, preparing for the final part of his plan. She froze, her eyes wide with fear, and pulled her precious children closer. The Emperor's and Vader's lightsabers ignited with equally angry hisses, radiating a heated red glow. “Padmé, get back to the ship, now!” Anakin forced out of his collapsing throat.

Padmé didn't hesitate, she hurried back to the ship, hazelnut hair flying as she spun around, mingled with scintillating tears, right when Obi Wan sped out of the ship. Vader tossed him his lightsaber, just as he lit his own, lucid blue one.

Obi Wan turned toward Palpatine, a deadly calm atmosphere enveloping him. He delved into the Force, preparing for what was to come. He was going to defeat the cause of all their problems, what had caused The Hero With No Fear’s defeat, and had caused him and Padmé such grief and heartache. 

Obi Wan held his saber poised in the air, as Palpatine’s crackling bright cobalt Force lightning shattered across the air, and collided with his lightsaber. He pushed against the Force lightning, hoping the mortally wounding voltage wouldn't make contact with his vulnerable flesh. 

After testing Master Kenobi with his Force lightning for a small lapse of time, Palpatine resorted to close combat, instead of a lightning attack. He pressed forward, still channeling Force lightning, until he reached Obi Wan’s general vicinity, and jabbed at Kenobi’s midriff, hoping to deal a fatal blow. Obi Wan’s quick reflexes, due to his unity with the Force, helped him dodge the blow, but not entirely. The Sith’s demonic, blood-red lightsaber grazed his side, and Obi Wan clenched his teeth, holding back an agonized grunt, burning in pain. 

Obi Wan and the Emperor exchanged several ferocious parries, sparks of crimson and blue sparks flying through the air like white-hot ashes from a blazing fire. Finally, Palpatine got his final move, fienting right, and then cutting left. This time Kenobi was not so lucky. Emperor Palpatine moved faster than he did, and brutally sliced off the lower half, from the elbow down, of Obi Wan’s sword arm. He cried out in agony, and stumbled over to the ship before collapsing onto the metal floor. Obi Wan used the Force, reaching into Vader's breathing system, changing it back to its original state, just as Padmé helped him into the ship.

Anakin picked up both lightsabers, and began an immediate attack on the Emperor. First he jabbed left, then right, sparks glancing off the brightly coloured sabers as they collided. The Emperor grunted as he pushed Anakin’s saber aside, and jabbed at his chest plate. Anakin dodged, Palpatine’s saber slicing through thin air. 

This was his chance. Anakin Force pushed the Emperor into the railing, hard. Then, without a midi-chlorian of hesitation, he tossed his fiery-red lightsaber over the railing, into oblivion, and ran to the ship and up the closing ramp.

Padmé sat in the pilot seat, trying to navigate the ship correctly. Tears flowed from her profound brown eyes, making the process of steering even harder. Anakin put his mechanical hand on her shoulder. “Padmé, it's okay. Let me pilot,” he squeezed her shoulder comfortingly.

“Ow,” Padmé winced, “that hurt Ani” she bit her lip, “wait-is it,” her voice trembled slightly, “is it okay if I call you that?” Padmé looked up at him, her beautiful brown orbs open wide, adorned with her ebony shaded feathery lashes.

“Yes, Padmé of course it’s fine, I love you, and that a hasn't changed a bit,” he spoke with a surety even Padmé could not have emanated.

Obi Wan clenched his teeth in pain, “could we get going please,” he gripped the stump of his arm with his one hand, “before Palpatine tries to kill us, again?”

“Yes,” Padmé said quickly. She stood up and moved out of the way for Anakin to sit down, then turned to Obi Wan, “meanwhile, we need to dress your wounds,” she walked out of the room to get some bandages and gauze.

After Anakin sat down, they left the Death Star, and shot off into hyperspace, their ship a magnificent glittering star in the galaxy, a trail of blue flame following.


	5. Chapter 5 (19 BBY)

Two weeks later Anakin and Padmé had flown off to Alderaan with their children, on the run from Emperor Palpatine.

Padmé knocked gently on the door, and Bail answered, in his baritone voice, “Hello, Padmé! Please, come in!” he opened the door all the way, gesturing with his arm for them to come inside. 

“Bail! Thank you so much for letting my family and I stay here for a little while,” Padmé stepped in, and Anakin, in his metal suit behind her, carrying the precious little babies, “we're sorry for any trouble it's caused you!” 

Not recognizing Anakin for a moment, Bail was about to close the door on who he thought was an intruder, when Padmé stopped the door and whispered to Bail, “It's okay, it's just Anakin,” she smiled, and motioned for him to continue their earlier conversation, so that Anakin wouldn't notice the space in Bail’s speech and perceive it as dislike.

“Don't worry, it's fine,” Bail smiled awkwardly, staring blatantly in Anakin's direction. He closed the door behind them, and motioned toward the staircase, “Your room is upstairs, second door to the left,” he turned toward Padmé and took both of the suitcases, “let me help you with those.”

“Thank you Bail,” Padmé replied, realizing how tired she was. She walked across the untarnished, beautifully polished wood floor, and up the deep plum carpeted stairs with mahogany banisters, and opened the white painted, bronze handled door, second to the left, and plopped herself down on the pale blue comforter on the bed without another word. Padmé sighed, and curled up on her side, still feeling a small ghost of pain in her abdomen.

Anakin tucked the comforter over her, and got in beside her, pulling her body against his cold, black armour. She shivered at the touch of her thinly covered back to cold metal. It was just not the same as before.

Whenever she stretched her neck and turned to kiss his cheek, instead she saw a dark black helmet, and her lips made contact with freezing metal. Whenever he spoke I love you, it was never in her Ani’s strong, warm voice, instead, it was Darth Vader's trembling, automated one. Padmé longed to feel the comforting heat of his slow breath whispering across her cheek, but all she felt was the cold wheezing of a machine that was only half her husband. She could never feel the rough, worn skin of his fingers caress her hand, or his gentle lips brushing the hair on the crown of her head. No, he had been left to burn, to die in fire, go up in flames, left to end his life with his own foolish decisions, bring about his own burning, his own demise, his death, through his own anger and hatred. His body was predominantly taken over by a machine, dark, inhuman, but his mind, she knew, was her precious Ani’s. So she held on to that one piece of knowledge, her only hope, and the fact that even though he was a cyborg, he still truly, deeply, loved her, as she did him. 

Secretly though, deep, deep inside her mind, buried in the depths by billions of thoughts of hope, and love, was a single thought of suspicion: what if he betrayed her again? He had done it once, couldn't it happen a second time? All the other thoughts of hope and love fought against it, but one tiny shard of evil can tear down an entire republic of good and kindness.

* * * * *


	6. Chapter 6 (13 BBY)

_____________________________time skip____________________________

As of this week, the family had settled on Taanab, in the inner rim, for the time being. It was a rather drably weathered planet, but it had a mild climate, and when the skies cleared, it was surprisingly pristine, and sunny. The Skywalker’s were currently staying in a small, secluded lake house. Which, to Padmé’s delight, had a lovely porch swing.

Padmé rolled lackadaisically out of bed from under Anakin's leathery black, suit covered arms to the sound of happily giggling and squealing children, along with a loud banging, and what sounded like a frantic automated scream.

She put her navy knit robe snugly over her shift, and walked out into the living room, her gait slow. Padmé walked over the soft carpet, under the small archway, and onto the cold, glossy wood floor of the kitchen. Luke was sitting on the kitchen floor, banging the screaming R2’s dome with a frying pan, while Leia was asking 3PO to recite how babies were made, 3PO vehemently refusing. Both six year old children were oblivious to the entrance of their tired mother.

“Luke, Leia, what are you doing?” Padmé asked, trying her hardest not to sound angry.

Both children stopped their loud banging and malicious questioning, and R2 went silent mid-scream. “Sorry Mom,” Luke replied with an Anakin-esque apology, which meant all but nothing, “we just got bored because you were busy napping with Daddy,” Luke raised his pan to go back to banging R2’s dome, and Leia started to turn towards 3PO.

Anakin stepped into the room, and caught Luke’s arm mid-swing, “Luke, you are better than this! You and Leia go to your room immediately. I don't want to hear any white-lie apologies in this house,” his deep angry voice resonated throughout the house, Padmé glanced at him. A warning, don't frighten them.

“What about in the next house? Or the next?” Leia replied in a voice clearly reflective of a sense of humor similar to her Father's. She sounded very unafraid, for a six year old. It was most likely due to her and Luke's training in the ways of The Force, since they were 2 years old. Anakin would have started them earlier, but Padmé was against it. At the current time, they were so experienced that they already had their own lightsabers, and were considered Padawan level.

Padmé touched Anakin's hand gently, indicating for him to let Luke go. He complied. “Luke, Leia, please. Your Father and I need some time to ourselves. And I'm sure R2 needs a break from getting his dome dented.”

Moping, the twins left for their room, without another word. Padmé looked up at Anakin, and for a small moment, she gazed through the cold eyes of the helmet, and into Anakin's gold laced, red rimmed ones. Unable to handle the pain of memories brought back from a dark musty corner in her mind, she gazed away, wishing for Anakin's old, clear, grey ocean blue eyes. The ones that she had gazed into so often at Varykino, sometimes with a glint of deep, passionate firelight, or fierce, blinding sunlight.

He pulled the glove on his left hand off, revealing his pale skin disfigured with burn scars. Anakin touched Padmé's cheek gently, and stroked it with his thumb. She could feel the rough scars on his hand brush against her smooth cheek and it brought chills up her spine to imagine what he had experienced, being on fire and living through it. Living to experience the brutal and gruesome damage it inflicted upon the human body, eating away at your flesh, slowly killing you, not to mention it’s influence on the mind, or the emotions. Padmé knew he needed her to be strong, so that he could hold on, she clutched his hand lovingly, and held it fast, looking deep into his amber eyes, “Ani,” her body brushed against Anakin's, and her face was inches away from his, “I love you,” her eyes fluttered gracefully closed, and she pressed her lips to... cold metal. Padmé opened her eyes, startled, and a tear trailed down her cheek and dripped off her chin onto Anakin's chest plate, right where his heart was, or where it would be.

Anakin pulled Padmé against him and she cried, and this time, he caught her tears and gently wiped them off her soft cheeks. She cried and cried, until finally, she cried so much that her heart couldn't be shattered into tinier shards, shards that stabbed agonizingly at where her heart used to be, reminding her of what they once had, what they once were. Finally, Padmé ran out of tears. She looked up into Anakin's dew-dropped gold eyes, “let’s go sit on the porch swing.”


	7. Chapter 7 (13 BBY)

Anakin's hand reached out towards her, his eyes gleaming fiercely with fury, and his hand closed in a fist. Padmé's throat constricted painfully, and she clawed at it, gasping futilely for air as she rose off the ground. Her eyes stung and watered, bloodshot from previous crying. She saw the ground rise up and felt it slap against her, and then her vision faded to blackness.

Padmé sat up, her breath coming in short bouts, her body burning, sweat in little scintillating droplets on her forehead. She felt a stinging on her neck and reached up to realize she had scratched at her throat in her sleep. Padmé gasped, and then covered her mouth with her hand, remembering where she was and who was next to her.

Anakin stirred in his sleep, and inside the helmet, his yellow eyes opened, like a feline, awake and alert immediately, “Padmé,” he touched her arm with a gloved hand, “what's the matter?” Even through his helmet and mechanics, you could hear the sympathy and compassion in his voice, and see it in his eyes. He reached towards Padmé, about to touch her shoulder and caress it gently.

Padmé’s vision changed, and she saw Vader's devilishly yellow eyes glaring at her, and she felt her throat start to shrink in diameter. She gasped, and started to scratch her neck again.

Anakin's voice echoed dizzily in her head, “Padmé, what's wrong?” He sat up, putting an arm around her shoulders.

She pulled away, her voice frightened, hands held up, pleading, begging, like a helpless child about to be stomped on by an AT-AT, “No! Don't touch me!”

“Padmé, “ his voice sounded vexed and wounded, “are you okay?”

His pained voice pulled her back into reality like a fish hook stabbing a fish and pulling it out of the water, “I’m sorry,” she sighed, “what did you say?”

Patiently, he stated his question again “ what's wrong?”

“I-,” Padmé breathed heavily, “I had a nightmare. I'm fine, don't worry about it, you can go back to sleep,” Padmé turned to lay back down and realized her hands were shaking violently, clinging to the sheets for dear life. She tried to stop them, but Anakin's keen eye noticed.

He caressed her shoulder gently, “no, tell me, I don't mind,” he replied in a quiet, gentle voice, despite his surgically implanted vocal chords.

“Anakin, I-,” she paused, about to give in and admit to something that would haunt her her entire life, “I think that I-, “ she sighed heavily, “I think I have PTSD,”

There were no words spoken -words weren't needed. Both knew what the other would say, and what the response was from the other. They couldn't get help, that would ruin their secrecy, and anyway, the Empire didn't employ that sort of expertise, nobody was supposed to know what was wrong with their government, and those who did were threatened. If her and Anakin went out in public, looking for help, someone would recognise them, and they would be turned in to the Empire. So, Anakin held her in a silent, sorrowful embrace. No tears were shed, this was too sad for tears. They fell asleep in their embrace, arms locked around each other, expressing their infinite love.


	8. Chapter 8 (13 BBY)

Some time later that morning, as the Anakin and Padmé were eating an early breakfast, there was a loud crash of a shattering window, and three frantic screams. Anakin stood up, and ran to the source of the sound, Padmé frantically following. They reached the room to find it was empty of both children, with only an angrily beeping and yelling R2, and a vexed and recently awakened C-3PO. Anakin glared out the window at who he was sure was Jango Fett. Great, people knew where they were now, and they had kidnapped their children.

He ran towards the opening, and was about to leap through it, lightsaber ignited, when Padmé put a hand on his shoulder, “Anakin,” he turned to face her, “there’s a safer way to do this, please, take a couple steps back before we leap into this, think,” Padmé's voice of reason was tempting, but Anakin preferred action instead of contemplation.

“No! sometimes all it takes is the willpower to jump! I have to go now before he's gone off of the planet!” His voice rose, ringing in Padmé's ears.

She shrunk back in fear, “Please Anakin, there's another way. We can call Bail and Mon Mothma, they're with the Rebels, on Yavin, they can help us find our kids without us having to go out in public,” she looked at Anakin, pleading.

He hesitated, but after a moment, he succumbed, “okay,” he sighed in submission, “but I have one question: does this mean we're joining the Rebels?”

Padmé smiled, “Yes.”

* * * * *

Bail welcomed them to Yavin’s rebel base, “and this will be the room you are staying in. I apologize for the small accommodations, but, as you know, we have many, much larger problems, than small accommodations,” he smiled warmly, “I have a quick question, if you don't mind. Would either of you be available to assist the Rebels with your talents? I know it's a lot to ask, but, if you would just hear me out.”

Anakin spoke before Padmé could get a word in edgewise, “No, I'm afraid not, we'd be seen or recognized in public. Also, I am certainly not welcomed here on Yavin by others, because they can’t accept the fact that I've changed,” he stated bluntly.

“Anakin,” Padmé scolded him lovingly. She turned toward Bail, “we would be glad to assist as long as going in public isn't involved in our jobs.”

“And you help find our children,” Anakin retorted, Padmé giving him a cold, sidelong look.

“Of course. That is completely understandable. If you need anything else we'd be glad to help you. If it is within our abilities, that is,” Bail turned to leave, but Anakin grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Bail, wait,” Senator Organa turned, “we do need your help. Do you happen to have any psychologists at work on Yavin?” Anakin asked hopefully.

Bail sighed regretfully, “I'm afraid not, we haven't gotten to acquiring mental health services, we've been busy with funding hospitals and doctors. Why do you ask?”

Anakin paused, squeezing Padmé's hand gently, while Padmé looked away forlornly, “We think Padmé might have PTSD.”

Bail’s eyebrows rose to the ceiling, “what? I'm so sorry, that's terrible!”

Anakin couldn't handle being slathered with sympathy, he knew Padmé wouldn't be able to speak or hear of it without crying “yes, it is. Now if you'll excuse us we'd like to settle in.” The door slammed abruptly in Bail’s face.

Anakin embraced Padmé as she wept. There was no way for him to fix this problem, there was no way to save her from the pain. Why did this keep happening? He hated it. The mere sound of her tears dripping onto his chest plate, of her feeble, haunted sobs, sent chills up his prosthetic body. It made his heart ache like when his mother died. Almost worse was the fact that Padmé understood he couldn't help her; and to boot their children were being held hostage by the Empire. Anakin knew he needed to do something, but he just didn't know what, or how.


	9. Chapter 9 (0 BBY)

It was about 13 years or so later, and Padmé and Anakin had decided to stay put on Yavin, even though it was clearly risky, they felt little reason to leave, as they had protection on Yavin. Much to their chagrin and despair, their children had not been found yet. Those who had been sent to find their children hadn't come back, most likely due to death. The couple had decided to, for the sake of their sanity, assume that their beloved offspring was dead, but Padmé still had an ever so small vein of hope in her heart that maybe, just maybe, Luke and Leia were alive and breathing, somehow, somewhere in this wretched, democracy-deprived, fearful, tyranny led galaxy.

It was another one of those mornings. It was a pointless day, with no meaning whatsoever. They lay in bed, not caring to wake up for hours on end, Padmé reveling in Anakin's embrace. Then they would groggily wake up, eat breakfast, Padmé would have a flashback (which was routine by now), Anakin would reassure her she was safe, and then they would finish eating breakfast, and then lay in bed, or look at holographic images or recordings of Luke and Leia. Their days became monotonously routine, to a sickening degree. They were of no assistance to the Rebels, as Padmé, neither Anakin could work publicly, which meant no political involvement, or battle involvement, which were their areas of expertise. 

They spent their time in hiding, of no use to anybody. Nobody saw or spoke with them, except each other. To them, it seemed as if any positive impacts of their lives were ripped away from them: Anakin's work in the Jedi Order (before his turn to the Dark Side), Padmé's outstanding political work against the looming Empire, the creation of their children. It was all thrown away like a commonplace droid impaled by a lightsaber, thrown into the scrap pile.

Finally, after an endless period of monotony, Anakin burst out of his nightly insomnia, in a crazed state. “I'm so tired of this depression!” he threw his arms in the air, in frustration, “ we have to find our kids, we have to actually live again! Padmé we're surviving, but we're not living! We have to do something!”

Padmé turned to face him, “Ani, what can we do?” her voice sounded pained, like she was back on Mustafar, at the mercy of a child murdering creature. Her eyes unfocused, and glazed over, the light within them suddenly masked by her fear.

Anakin clasped her shoulder and shook her gently, “Padmé, Padmé! Snap out of it!”

Her eyes focused on his face again, and started to pool with tears, “No! Not you again! Don't,” she pushed him away with her hand on his chest, “-get away from me!” Suddenly, her eyes brightened, and she gazed into his eyes, confused, and then looked down at the hand placed on his chest. Her face twisted into a frustrated expression, pained with guilt. Padmé's eyes overflowed. Hot, tired, depressed tears streamed down her soft cheeks, echoing the afterglow of her brightly burning brown eyes.

Anakin pulled her against him, her hand still over his prosthetic, beating, heart. “Padmé, it's okay, I know how to find our children. We can visit the Death Star.”

Padmé looked up at him, her eyebrows raised in a graceful arch, “What? The Death Star! We'd surely be caught if we went there! That's exactly where we're trying to stay away from!”

“Yes! Which is exactly why the Emperor would keep them there, he knows we wouldn't go near the wretched planet destroyer, let alone inside it! Which is why we're going to surprise him by going there!” Anakin clapped a fist into his open palm triumphantly.

Padmé smiled reminiscently, remembering the smirk Anakin would've worn ages ago, a bright spark in his once calm blue eyes. Her old Anakin's spirit was truly back, not without a couple scars, but still, he was back. And Padmé loved it already. It reminded her of the old days during the Clone Wars, when Anakin would come home late and rattle on and on about battle tactics, and how to take advantage of the enemy, or when he surprised her by getting home early before she did, and made a delicious dinner for two. This was exactly what they had been missing, and her old, reckless, headstrong, protective Ani was finally back.

“And,” he added excitedly “we can meet with Obi Wan on Tatooine and get his help!”

Padmé couldn't help but smile even more, “As long as I can come with you!”

Anakin waved a hand, “of course! What? Did you think I would leave you alone?”

Padmé giggled, “I don't know, you are a man of many surprises…” she swatted him on the shoulder, “of course not! I know you wouldn't do that,” her voice calmed, and her smile faded slightly, “so… when do we leave?”

Anakin still had a smile in his voice, “now, of course.”


	10. Chapter 10 (0 BBY)

Anakin and Padmé walked up to Owen and Beru’s home. It was a very bright, hot, and dry day on Tatooine, as usual. There was nothing but colourless, cracked, moisture deprived ground, and small village huts for miles around. Anakin knocked gently on the door, hoping that he wouldn't disturb anybody's sleep.

The door opened with a slight creak and an older version of Obi Wan stood in the doorway. He looked like he had nine years ago, with his sparky blue green eyes, but with much whiter hair, and a few more wrinkles. His eyes, although bright, as always, didn't have quite as strong a spark, they looked rather tired, as if the heat of the sun had slowly drained his strength away, like water softening the sharp edge of a frigid,pointed icicle.

When he saw Anakin, his face immediately twisted in an expression of suspicion. He knew exactly who it was, exactly what he had done. No mask or cybernetics could fool him. This was the man who was his brother, who the galaxy had seen as a hero, who he had seen as a hero, his partner. That is, until his act was up, and he betrayed them all: his pregnant wife, his unborn child, his friend, the entire galaxy. For what? Power. It was as simple as that. He killed innocent children.

Obi Wan new it was wrong to hold a grudge, as it was a relative of hate, which was against the Jedi Code, but look what he had done! Was it even possible for him to change? He killed what must have been millions, and was infamous for his cold blooded killings, and his short, fiery temper-that is, until he left nine years ago. Obi Wan softened his expression, remembering that Anakin was his beloved brother, and that he had tried his best to lead an honorable life after his mistakes, “Anakin, Senator Ami- I mean, Padmé,” he smiled in their general direction, “what brings you here today?”

Anakin could sense Obi Wan’s quiet hostility, so he tried to seem as kind and un-menacing as possible, “if you let us inside, we would be glad to explain the situation,” Anakin gestured inside the hut.

Obi Wan nodded, the couple walked in, and he shut the door behind them, “please, sit down,” he took a seat himself, crossing his legs and sinking down in the wicker chair like it was the most luxurious chair he had ever sat in. Obi Wan stroked his beard thoughtfully, and, after a moment of silence, gestured at Anakin, “well? Explain.”

Anakin took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, “to put it shortly, our children have been taken by the Empire. We want you to help us get them back.”

“What! You mean you want me to go inside the Death Star, to help you find your children?”

“Yes, I do.”

Obi Wan stroked his beard, “you mean, like old times, when we went on missions for the Jedi Council?” He thought for a couple more moments, “I suppose you'll need a better ship?”

“Of course. So, are you game, or not?” Anakin sat in quiet anticipation, his arm wrapped protectively around Padmé's petite shoulders.

Obi Wan took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly, as though preparing for his execution, “yes.” His graceful, yet bold accented voice echoed for a moment, and then Anakin literally jumped for joy, nearly bouncing off the walls and then forced himself to sit down quietly. If he had jumped any harder, the small, few windows in the house would have given out and shattered.

“So where are we getting the ship? It seems as though you had a specific place in mind?” Anakin struggled to hold himself still, his voice charged with excitement, like the end of an electrostaff-charged with energy.

“Well, if you follow me, I think I have just the place in mind. It has quite a few smugglers who would lend a ship to us for a few druggats.”

Anakin stood up with Padmé, and gestured toward the door, “lead the way.”


	11. Chapter 11 (0 BBY)

Obi Wan made his way over to the counter, ordering a drink, and then sat down at a table with Anakin and Padmé.

“So….” Obi Wan took a sip of his drink, “clearly we have some catching up to do. How have you been recently, aside from the absence of your children?” He took another sip.

“Well, we're of no help to the Rebels whatsoever, and unfortunately, although it is undiagnosed, we're pretty sure Padmé has PTSD,” Anakin looked down sadly, pulling Padmé against him and rubbing her arm.

“Really? That's horrid! Have you not been able to get counseling?” Obi Wan’s face contorted in an expression vexation and empathy.

“No, the Rebels don't have that kind of services, as they can't afford them, and, of course, the Empire doesn't offer them either,” Anakin hugged her tighter. Padmé looked down, biting her lip, trying to hold tears back from streaming down her cheeks.

“I'm so sorry,” he reached across the table and placed a hand gently on top of hers. She smiled, trying to reassure Obi Wan that she was okay. Padmé couldn't hold it in any more; as the smile spread across her face, tears spilled out of her eyes in small shimmering, bead-like droplets, almost like tiny shards of glass, piercing her cheeks and her heart.

“Padmé!” Anakin spoke in worry.

Wiping her hand across her cheeks, hoping to stem the flow of tears, Padmé took a deep breath, “I'm fine Anakin, I'm fi-” her voice shattered in a sob.

Anakin pulled her head against his chest, “shhh, it's okay to cry Angel, it's okay….”

Padmé's quiet sobs continued to rack her fragile body. Voices rose over in a booth nearby, and suddenly, there was a startling BANG! And the room filled with smoke. All three of them looked around frantically. 

A man in a vest, with ruffled golden brown hair stepped over a corpse on the ground, mumbling to himself, “Nobody tells me I don't shoot first,” came the angry susurration.

Obi Wan leaned over towards Anakin, “this is who I was thinking we could get a ride from” he whispered softly.

“And why is he so reliable, considering he just killed someone on the spot?”

“Well,” Obi Wan paused for a moment, stroking his whitened beard, “he is a smuggler, but he has a Millennium Falcon, and he flew the Kessel run. Think you can do better than-”

“Pfft, please,” Anakin waved his hand dismissively, “I could do way better than that. I did do way better than that. I won the Boonta Eve race. Think he can beat that?”

Obi Wan ignored Anakin, and waved the man over. He walked over, his gait cocky, his eyes on the money that Obi Wan had set on the table. 

Obi Wan smirked under his beard, “Han, right?” he held out his hand for Han to shake.

Han shook his hand heartily, “Yes, that's me,” his hand fell to his side after Obi Wan let go, “who are you?”

“You can call me Ben Kenobi,” Obi Wan stated gruffly, “and this is Padmé, and Anakin,” he gestured towards them.

“Well Ben, why did you call me over?”

“See, the the three of us need a ride. And I've heard rumors that you're a pretty good pilot, and that you happen to own a pretty great ship too, am I right?” he raised his eyebrows .

“A pretty good pilot? A pretty great ship? Please, I own a Millennium Falcon, probably the only one in the galaxy, not to mention the fact that I know how to pilot it,” Han gave a cocky smirk, “So, yeah, with some money, I could give you a ride.”

“Great! How much do you want in payment?”

Han leaned over and whispered in Obi Wan's ear. Obi Wan's eyes widened. I sure hope the Rebels have enough money for this… “Yeah, we can, it won't be immediate, since we'll need to gather some money from our allies. ” Obi Wan grimaced inwardly, hoping that the Rebels would have enough money.

“Deal?” Han held out his hand to Obi Wan.

Obi Wan shook it, “Deal.”


	12. Chapter 12 (0 BBY)

Anakin and Padmé sat next to Han, who was piloting the ship. They had decided to explain to him who they where, once they went into hyperspace, because they wanted to be honest with him. After they had finished the long explanation, Han's face twisted in confusion, “so, let me get this straight. You,” he pointed at Padmé, “have PTSD, from getting choked by your own husband, and you,” he pointed to Anakin, “got burned up on sand, which you hate, turned into a cyborg, and served the Emperor as a Sith?”

They looked at each other for a moment, Han gaping in awe, “yes, all of that is true.”

“Let's cut to the chase then,” his expression went back to that of it's usual demeanor; smug, a sort of, smoulder, you could say, “why do you need a ride to the Death Star, aren't I kind of leading you to your death? Pun intended,” Han smirked facetiously.

“Well,” Padmé glanced over at Anakin, wincing, “see, the Empire kidnapped our children about 13 years ago, the two of them, Luke and Leia. They were about six years old then, and we've finally decided to take matters into our own hands. We guessed, because they think we wouldn't dare enter the Death Star, that our children are located there.”

Han nodded, biting his lip, “my apologies for your hardships, but how do you plan on getting your children back?”

Anakin thought for a small moment, “well, I'll fight the Emperor, while Obi Wan finds Luke and Leia. Hopefully, I'll defeat the Emperor, and we'll get our children back.”

Padmé looked confused, “wait, what about me? Won't you let me help?”

“Padmé…..” Anakin trailed off worriedly, “please, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't live without you if you died, what if the dark side took over me again?.... I don't want to hurt you,” he curled a piece of her slightly greying hair behind her ear, “please Angel…..”

She pulled his glove off, feeling the metal of his prosthetic hand against her cheek. Padmé looked down, her eyes glistening with tears, “but what if the Emperor hurts you? And you don't have your lightsaber.” She put her hand against his prosthetic one.

“Obi Wan gave it back to me, and if I don't survive… I'll be in the Force. And after killing those younglings, I… I deserve it.”

Padmé’s face contorted in an agonized, and conflicted expression. She looked away, biting her lip. Quietly, she reprimanded him, “Anakin….” Padmé couldn't protest much more than that. He was sorry, but sorry didn't revive the children he killed. In the republic, the punishment for killing that many juvenile innocents in cold blood was, well… nothing short of death. Deep down, she wondered whether he really did deserve to be alive, to live with how many younglings lives he had destroyed. To be happy, (although his happiness was to a small degree), and have stolen others happiness away from them. Was that okay with her? Okay at all? Was it ever possible for him to redeem himself? 

Padmé pushed away these thoughts. She couldn't question him now; not when they were just about to save their children, just when he needed her most. Padmé closed her eyes for a moment, pondering her decision. “I'll stay Anakin. But If I feel like you're life is in danger, I'm not going to hesitate. I will help you if I feel it is necessary. Do you understand?”

Anakin nodded, giving a strong sigh of relief. Han turned to look at them, “if you lovebirds are done talking now, we're almost there,” Han smirked to himself, and docked on the airlock of the ship, glad that the Falcon's colour camouflaged so well with the shade of the Death Star.

Obi Wan entered the room, they discussed plans, and then the three of them left, Anakin embracing Padmé once last time. As he pulled away from her comforting hug, he whispered in her ear, his breath blowing across her cheek, “I love you Padmé.”

She smiled gently, and kissed where the bridge of his nose would be- hard metal, Padmé tried not to shudder. “Hurry, they need you Anakin, now more than ever.”

With that Anakin slid down the chute, out of Padmé's vexed sight.


	13. Chapter 13 (0 BBY)

Padmé sat back down and rested her head against the dashboard. She closed her eyes tight, trying to force away her tears, and the worried thoughts that swirled throughout her tired, desperation swamped brain. 

I am one with the Force, the Force is with me. Padmé couldn't help but repeat the phrase that Anakin had told her in hard times, whenever her memories came back to haunt her ever-tired, yet perseverant mind. There was one night she remembered in particular, where she had had an especially bad flashback, and Anakin had pulled her against him, and whispered the phrase ever so softly in her ear, until slumber prevailed.

Padmé forced the tears back, struggling to keep them from bleeding from her eyes. It was more harrowing than what anybody in the galaxy had experienced. Nobody else knew her pain, her tears, her heart wrenching love, for someone who had betrayed her most personal trust, for whom she sacrificed her honesty, given birth, and given her life. And now he might be lost again. Padmé didn't want to even try to comprehend the joy-stealing, realistic possibility that he could be gone again. What would she do if that happened? Padmé had a single thought, but she pushed it away. She would never forfeit her life, not when she could still help other people. If she could assist anybody, provide any help for the bettering of the galaxy, she had to stay alive.

Padmé shook softly, as she stood up and walked into her small bedroom, where Luke and Leia’s old bassinets were, and laid down on the bed, wide awake, waiting.

* * * * *

Han pulled the stormtrooper armour on, while Obi Wan waited, already outfitted.

Obi Wan looked back at Han, “done yet?” He whispered in a grumbling, husky voice, sharpened with a bitter undertone.

Han pulled the helmet over his head, giving Obi Wan a thumbs-up, “yep.”

Obi Wan smiled under his helmet, “the path is clear, let's get going,” he turned the corner, Han on his tail. Obi Wan delved into the Force as he ran, trying to find Luke and Leia. Unfortunately, he didn't know their Force signature, so they were running for ten or so minutes, until they turned a corner to take a quick breather. Both panted under their helmets, the black eye covers clouding with their breath. Finally, Obi Wan recognized where he thought one of the twins was. He pointed to the left, “I think one's this way,” both turned left, hoping to avoid the oncoming footsteps, which were sure to bring capture.

* * * * *

Anakin followed the Emperor’s haunting Force signature into a dark, secluded room. He had to squint to see, but from bare outlines, he could see that the room was draped with heavy curtains, empty of any sort of window or light. Anakin brushed his still ungloved prosthetic hand against the walls. They were pockmarked with small eroding patches, most likely from being struck by force lightning in the Emperor's rage. It was a sightless, unpredictable cavern, with so little light that he could barely make out his surroundings.

A dry, maniacal chuckle wafted from a far corner of the room, “Anakin Skywalker, you've come back to end me, haven't you?” The dry voice had a certain confidence in its very syllables, in its unsinged vocal chords, a level of confidence unknown to any other creature in the galaxy. Except him. It brought chills up his half-prosthetic body, to think that he was that powerful, that he had that much control.

“Well I hate to break it to your lava scorched brain, but you're not going to kill me,” he pulled his lightsaber out and ignited it with a snap-hiss, the red glow illuminating his withered, sunken visage. He might as well have verbally threatened death. “You're too weak, and helpless, and insecure,” Palpatine spat the poisonous words, his spittle sizzling on the blade of his lightsaber.

Anakin ignited his own weapon, brightening his own aged, but still bold and pleasing face, his blue eyes still stormy as ever, with an especially intense glow. “Fine,” he focused, scrunching his sculpted nose in disgust, clenching his chiseled jaw, under his mask, “let's fight.”


	14. Chapter 14 (0 BBY)

Obi Wan and Han reached Luke's cell. Obi Wan easily killed the stormtroopers, pushed the door down, and surveyed his surroundings. It was a dark cell, the bars to the doors less than an inch apart, with no other light sources besides the hallway. Obi Wan touched his fingertips to the wall, and felt a wet squishing sound. They were covered with moss and mildew, feeding off of years of germs and bacteria on the surface. The ceiling dripped constantly, water droplets forming small puddles on the floor. He wondered how they could have held a Jedi captive for all these years. Did they threaten to hurt people close Luke and Leia? Malnourish them? Torture them? They definitely didn't have their lightsabers; the Emperor wasn't so stupid as to allow prisoners weapons, especially Jedi. 

Han and Obi Wan entered the cell, and Obi Wan heard a deep groan. He lifted his foot and nudged the space in front of him. Another groan. “Luke? Is that you?”

“How do you- I mean, I'm not telling you what my name is!” he groaned again.

Han was irritated by the constant complaints and hostility, not knowing Luke's physical condition. “Listen, we're here to help you, and by the sound of it, you need our help, so let us give you what you need.”

“What he means to say is: you're father, Anakin Skywalker, sent us here to help you, and we don't mean to harm you,” Obi Wan took off his helmet and crouched down next to Luke, placing a firm, yet gentle, hand on his shoulder.

“What? My father sent you? I have to see him! Where is he?” Luke sat up, immediately forgetting is pain.

“You may, but first there are a couple things we need to do. We need to know what happened to you, and where your sister is,” Obi Wan's calm, reassured voice tampered down Luke's excitement.

Luke took a small moment to reply, “It was- I-” he sighed, “they tortured me, cut off my hand. The Emperor wanted to know where my parents were; I didn't give in. He said that if I ever tried to leave he would kill Leia….” he trailed off, “I'd do anything to help her,” Luke's voice echoed a yearning from the deepest corner of his heart. Just hearing it spoke volumes about his love for his sister. If Obi Wan had seen his face he probably would have had to look away out of burning sympathy for this mere boy, who had been cells away from his sister, and not seen her for 13 years. Almost there, but not quite.

Obi Wan finally broke the agonized silence, “So, where's your sister?” He stood up and put his helmet on.

“Well, her Force signature seems to be located down the hallway, take a left, then your second right, and then it should be the fifth cell on your right, number 3,624,” Luke pulled himself up slowly, forcing back a deep groan.

Han turned to the opening, “let's get going already, before we're discovered.”

* * * * *

Anakin jabbed at Palpatine’s chest, but he was met with a simple and graceful parry. He jabbed again, this time at his side, and he was again blocked. Anakin clenched his teeth in frustration, growling. Palpatine caught his distraction and used it to his own advantage, slicing the side of Anakin's thigh. Anakin growled, his agony echoing through the dim cyan and crimson light, playing shadows across the walls and curtains. 

Anger welled up inside him, like the fire that had burned him years ago on the black glass sand. Palpatine had done this all to him! He had caused him this pain! He hated- no, he couldn't do this again. He wasn't going to hate. That wasn't what life was about, hate didn't get you anywhere-except hell, except the dark side. His life was about his love for Padmé, and his children. Anakin loved them, he loved them. Anakin pushed the disgusting anger and hate away, and in less than a split second, he curved his lightsaber at the Emperor’s neck from the left.

The Emperor took a desperate slash at Anakin's mask as he stumbled backwards, struggling to vacate the range of the lightsaber, and fell back into the black curtains, enveloped in their darkness

* * * * *

Padmé felt a jolt of chills go through her body, like crackling electricity. She sat up. Anakin was in danger, and she knew it sure as his love for her. She bolted down the ship and slipped through the chute without time for a second thought.

She ran through the corridors, not caring who saw her, somehow knowing where to go. The world around her went in a blur, the troopers firing in her direction passed by like small starfighters, their laser bolts missing her every time. Padmé kept on running. She had to get to Anakin. She just had to.

* * * * *


	15. Chapter 15 (0 BBY)

Obi Wan, Han, and the twins now ran through the hallways, troopers on their tail. The latter three being young, and spry, had little trouble running top speed. Obi Wan on the other hand, had old, weakened limbs, and was tired from constant running. He stumbled falling to the ground. The three looked back in worry, “Go! Leave me! Save yourselves!” Obi Wan yelled.

He dissipated into the Force, his body fading, leaving only his large Jedi robe on the floor, being hit by several blaster bolts. Obi Wan's lightsaber rolled across the floor, free of mastery. Luke snatched it up and started to run away to the ship as Obi Wan had told them to do, blocking laser bolts as he went.

* * * * *

Spontaneously, Palpatine erupted from the curtains and threw himself at Anakin in rage, brandishing his lightsaber with a twirl as he aimed it straight for his heart. Anakin arched his lightsaber up to meet the Emperor's from below, throwing the cursed red weapon across the room. Palpatine paused in shock, and his hands formed into a claw like shape. Lightning shot out of them in Anakin’s direction, sizzling on the air. It hit him once, and he felt his whole body vibrate. It hit him again and he felt his systems start to break down. Suddenly he had less aid in his breathing, his heart was starting to beat on it's own accord. He began to feel again the ever present burning pain of the fire eating his body away, reliving the moment.

Footsteps echoed throughout the room from some direction he couldn't perceive. Anakin suddenly felt a peaceful presence, like a soft, trickling, cleansing flow of tranquil, healing water on a burning wound. Padmé, He knew it without a doubt that it was her. She yelled out his name in horror, “Anakin!” He could sense her reach her hand out to him in pain. He could see her exact expression in his mind’s eye, the converged eyebrows, her gently curved nose, her soft, supple lips forming his name in fear.

Suddenly, Anakin knew what to do. He just had a sudden urge, like it was the will of the Force, to hold his hand out. As the Emperor, brought down another strike, the lightning stopped near his palm, and formed an orb of electricity. Anakin pushed through his palm with the Force and redirected the lightning back at the Emperor. His body shook a brittle, leafless tree racked with a Kaminoan hurricane. He fell to the ground, his pasty pale face withered smaller and smaller, shrinking in his robes, his body wasting away like dust poured into water, until he fully dissipated into nothing but dust particles lingering in the air.

Padmé closed the final distance between her and Anakin, embracing him. He whispered to her, with his own vocal chords, in his own husky, and wheezing, but real, voice, “Padmé , take off my mask.” She hesitated, but did what she was told. She gasped at the sight of the burn scars on his face.

Anakin put his real hand in her loose curls at the nape of her neck, and his prosthetic hand on the small of her back, pulling Padmé's body flush against his. She blushed slightly, and caressed his cheek. “Padmé,” Anakin whispered, his forehead touching hers, “I love you. I truly, deeply, love you, and before we die I want you to know.” Padmé pressed her lips to his, and he kissed her back, their kiss became deeper, Anakin hugging Padmé even closer. Anakin finally found what he was missing, the taste of Padmé's soft lips. He remembered it like it was yesterday. It was the first time in 19 years they had felt this, it was the happiest day of their entire lives. And that was an understatement.

As Anakin's breath began to wane, he pulled Padmé closer, her arms encircling him, and tuned into the Force. Together, they slowly started to fade into the Force. Their bodies slowly disappearing into thin air, leaving Anakin's helmet, and his cape on the ground, along with a straying strand of Padmé’s warm chestnut hair, which floated to the ground. There seemed to be small tendrils of memory hanging like glitter in the air, the only thing left of their spirits, traveling to the Netherlands of the Force, across the stars.


End file.
